Awakening
by AureliaBlack90
Summary: Hermione struggles to adjust to life post-war and finds herself as one of 3 returning 8th years. She builds a surprising friendship with her two dorm mates in her quest to find herself. Years later, the three of them are reunited in Paris and find that it feels as though no time has passed at all. EWE/MA/Threesome/BDSM/ Dramionaise HG/DM/BZ with brief H/R
1. Prologue

A/N

Hello there readers! I've been sitting on this since last September and have recently had some more inspiration to help me finish it up. I have at least one more chapter finished and another few on the way. In total I suspect this will be under 5 chapters.

I love these characters together - I hope you enjoy my interpretation of them! I edit my work myself, so while I am happy to accept reviews on my grammar, please also know that I often choose to use such things as dashes and semi colons incorrectly - on purpose! I would love to hear your thoughts on this prologue.

Enjoy _!_

 _8/2017 update: I have slightly changed some of this prologue to better connect with the coming chapters._

 _Awakening: A Prologue_

She wasn't exactly sure how she had ended up here, comfortably curled between their two bodies, content and satisfied. Blaise had settled behind her on his side, his arm resting around her waist, while Draco had fallen asleep on his back on her other side. When she began to look back at all their history together, it wasn't hard to see where it had all begun. Hermione chuckled quietly to herself as she thought about how blind she had been over the years.

Her attraction to them had started so long ago. Long before they were on good terms. Long before they began to study together silently in their little 8th year common room. Long before they began to stay up too late drinking, and closing down The Three Broomsticks on weeknights when they should have been sleeping. It started long before they grew up. She had thought at the time that she was an adult, but Hermione could see now that she had still been a child. They had all been children, learning who they were in a world that was no longer at war.

Hermione could remember her ride to Hogwarts for her 8th year as if it were yesterday. That was the day that she caught her first glimpse of the new Draco - Draco as she now knew him. Before that fateful train ride, she had last seen him huddled with his parents in the great hall after Voldemort had fallen. Draco had been dirty and bleeding, skin hanging off his bones, tear tracks painted down his cheeks and throat. That image was permanently glued in her mind, and at the time, Hermione felt as though she was looking in a mirror. The had barely hung onto their lives, and were seemingly broken beyond repair. But as she discovered over that summer before returning to school, she had not been broken beyond repair. And apparently, neither was he.

Within a month after that fated battle, Hermione had hightailed it out of the country. She and her two boys had accomplished the impossible, and child soldiers they were no more. As everyone had stood around wondering what was next, she stood drowning in grief and fear. So she headed to the other side of the world - as far from Britain as she could possibly be.

Hermione found her parents, reclaimed them as her own, and holidayed with them in Australia for four months- eating and sleeping, sunning and singing, crying and attending the therapy her parents had decided she desperately needed. She wrote to Harry, but was relieved to be away from the dark cloud she knew still hung over the lot of them at the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black. Her parting with Ron had not been amicable, and she was thankful to finally be away from him for the time being.

That four months was an awakening, a shedding of the confines the magical community had imposed upon her. By the time she boarded the Express for her 8th year, she had been filled with a cocktail of freedom and rebellion. A sensuality and lightheartedness had settled deep into her bones, a veil had been lifted from her spirit, and she felt as though she was finally just beginning to find herself.

Just as Draco had mirrored her spirit in the aftermath of that fateful day - their lives crumbling rubble like the castle around them; he surprisingly mirrored her once more on September the first, four months since she had last seen him. She caught a glimpse of him from her compartment as he boarded the train, a pensive expression on his face. He was so much taller than she remembered, or was it just that he had finally gotten rid of all that was weighing him down? His hair was a bit shaggy and his shoulders full, no longer mere skin and bones.

She stared at him through her window, most likely with her mouth hanging open. A sharp shudder thudded through her. _Draco Malfoy was attractive? When had that happened?_ She thought to herself. When he caught her staring a minute later, he didn't smirk at her like she would have anticipated. As it were, there was very little going on in her brain at the sight of him other than ironic cricket chirping. However, he didn't glare, and he didn't even ignore her. He respectfully nodded his head and gave her a small smile. Hermione's heart caught in her throat and butterflies welled up in her chest, and she looked quickly away. She did her best to school her face and and willed her pink cheeks to _just calm the fuck down already._

That nod and smile - that was it for her. Their new beginning.

Hermione's relationship with Blaise had developed quite differently. He was naturally outgoing, loved to be the center of attention, and one of his favorite things to do was figure out new ways to make Hermione blush. Before the end of the war, Hermione would have told you that Draco was the outgoing arrogant bastard, and that Blaise was in fact the quiet, more studious of the two. But to her amazement, as she got to the know the both of them, she also had the privilege to see the demise of their smoke screens. She quickly came to the realization that Draco tended to be naturally more quiet, while Blaise grew fully into his personality of _Great Britain's Most Eligible Flirt_ (as she later would frequently call him). After the war, Draco was able to drop his armor of loud, clamoring pure blood superiority, and Blaise was able to leave behind his need to stay safely and quietly in the background. The result of the two of them finally being able to be who they truly were in front of others was staggering to Hermione.

Once her and Blaise had moved past their status of 'former enemies' into the realm of 'acquaintances-turned-best-friends', they spent much of their time together in flirtatious banter. Blaise showered her in luxurious, seemingly outrageous compliments and spoiled her rotten with gifts. His excuse was that he had money to burn, and what better way than to burn it on a lucky few? For many years Hermione thought that it was just a game, a flirtation that he found amusing. She learned later on that he was every bit as authentic in his desire of her as Draco, and that he had been every bit as smitten with her as she was with him. (Although she had never allowed herself to truly indulge in such fantasies. After all - why would Blaise ever choose her when he had his pick of beautiful women?)

As she drifted to sleep beside her two lovers, Hermione chuckled quietly once more. Wasn't it fitting, that after a childhood spent warring with two boys by her side, she would find two men to spend the rest of her days with?


	2. Chapter 1

A/N: Hello, friends! Thank you to everyone that has followed the story and to the reviewers! This is not the chapter that I had hinted it would be - As I began working more on it I realized that I needed to take things in a different direction before I could get to the endgame.

Ahead we will see how our girl is fairing post-war at Grimmauld Place and how her relationship with Ron blows up. I know that Ron is often written in two ways - either as a faithful friend or as a complete asshole. Warning - he is a complete asshole in this chapter! But my goal in writing him this way is twofold: to show that they are all suffering from deep seated emotional dysfunction, and also as an instigator to spurn Hermione on towards who she will eventually end up with.

 _Trigger Warning_ \- this chapter contains semi-non/con, offensive language, and inaccurate BDSM components. I will post an additional warning in the text if you want to read up until that part and then skip the actual smut.

 _Awakening Chapter One_

After the final battle, the Order of the Phoenix rose up from the ashes in tatters. They healed their injuries, and set the necessary plans in action for a new world order to take root in the blood soaked earth of Britain. On the outside, things were made to look bright and new and shiny. But behind closed doors the stench of death never quite left the heroes that had given more of themselves than they ever should have had to.

Hermione was left scarred but seemingly whole to the outside world. In the places that no one else could see, she felt twisted and ugly. Ugly in the way fear crept up into her esophagus and cut her breath short. Ugly in how her hands would shake at loud noises and the way the deep corners of her mind would turn hostile against her. The war may have been over, but she was still at war within herself. Over every movement, over every thought - nothing was at peace within her.

Her kills rose up to haunt her and she found herself dreaming of their faces and of her blood stained trainers during mid-day tea or while she put laundry through before bed. She could sometimes feel the slice of Bellatrix's cold knife inside of her skin, and she would fall asleep to unintelligible whispers playing like waves across her psyche. Whispers that felt reminiscent of the way Voldemort's soul had whispered to her while resting at her breast all year in the wilderness.

She tried to get through it, she really did. She wanted to stand alongside her fellow warriors and move on, but it was proving to be more difficult than she had realized it would be. They never planned to be on this side of the war; they had only focused on living another day. _Run, fight, kill, repeat._ Yet here they were, back to the mundane of laundry and her body could not stop prepping her for _run, fight, kill, repeat._

She had mourned with the rest over those they had lost, and she set herself into the motions modeled by her fellow survivors that had fallen back in to the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black. But Hermione found the quiet and dark presence of The House of Black to be oppressive. She was desperate to escape it; to run away from the weight of all that had happened to them. She could no longer help Harry and Ron the way that she had in the past, and it was too terrible a feeling to be left useless. She could no longer _fight_ or _kill_ to solve anything, and it left a gaping hole in her chest. No; there would be no more _fighting_ or _killing._ But in the background of her mind, behind her thought of _survive_ and behind Voldemort's lingering whispers, she found there was one thing she was good at that she could still do: _Run_.

So she packed up her trunk, petitioned their new minister for an international portkey, and broke the news to everyone over dinner the night before she was due to leave.

"Wait, wait, wait. Back up a minute. You're leaving for Australia? _Tomorrow_?" Ron exclaimed with a derisive laugh. "You can't just up and leave on an international trip overnight Hermione. You have to get a portkey, and figure out where your parents settled, and make a plan….there's no way you're getting all that done by tomorrow."

Hermione's blood boiled at Ron's insinuation of helplessness. Despite all that she had done for them, he still looked at her and saw a slight little girl. She had bled for them and lied for them and hunted for them. She had killed for them and healed them when she could have let them bleed out on the floor. _Just a silly little girl with a book,_ she thought, bloodlust rising like bile in her throat.

But just as quickly as it had flared, her anger at his chauvinism turned to dread and sick defeat. Maybe she really was just as powerless in this new world as he constantly insinuated. Even so, she was still leaving. _Running_ , she thought, _is something I do best, Ronald._

There was a long pause as everyone looked at her, waiting for an explanation. But she remained silent and met Harry's eyes from across the table. He actually didn't look at all surprised, and she wondered if Harry had already suspected that she was not doing as well as she was leading everyone else to believe. Despite her romantic history with Ron, Harry had always understood her better. He had always respected her.

"You've already done everything to get ready, haven't you Hermione." Harry said, holding her gaze steady. Ron looked at her, and out of the corner of her eye she saw his face turn from disregard to stark disbelief.

"Yes. Everything is all set." She responded quietly.

The table was silent for a few minutes until there was a scrape of a chair, and suddenly Ginny was hugging her and offering her well wishes. Ron remained stony and slipped upstairs without a word, which she took to be a bad sign. In all their years together, Ron had always been explosive, often prone to tantrums and screaming that required multiple reparo charms once the storm had calmed. Hermione felt a desperation well up inside her, and she almost bolted up the stairs after him, keen to assuage his anger. Instead, she forced herself to stay glued to her chair. Ron could wait. Right now she would spend one last night with the people that were happy for her.

Hours later, once everyone had already closed their bedroom doors for the night, Hermione slipped out of her room and down the hallway. His lights were off, but she doubted he would be asleep. She hesitated, her hand resting on the handle for what felt like an eternity.

 _Things will go more smoothly if I just go back to bed. Just go to bed. Go to bed Hermione. Just go to bed._

But leaving sleeping dragons lie had never been one of her strengths, and the desperation to make things right with him had once again welled up inside of her. She felt as though her last year had been filled with nothing but lies and secrecy. It killed her to feel the fogs of betrayal settle down between her and someone she felt she could love. So she breathed in and silently turned the door handle.

Ron was lying on his bed with his hands behind his head staring up at the ceiling, moonlight streaming across him through the open window. Even as trepidation settled inside of her, she couldn't stop the feeling of desire that shot through her as she looked at him. He was wearing nothing but boxers, his strong wiry frame taking up most of the bed. Having lived in a tent with him for a year, she had seen him in various states of undress before. But never on this side of the war: never with this kind of weight settled between them. His hipbones jutted out away from him and his arms were long and powerful. She felt so small when she was alone with him. Fear and arousal pooled together into a heady concoction in her brain, but Hermione forced herself to pad quietly to the bed and sit down at the edge. She looked at the floor, her hands shaking, awaiting his judgment.

"Say something, Ron" Hermione whispered into the dark. She felt his gaze turn towards her, felt his anger rolling off of him in waves. She hung her head lower and closed her eyes, her breath shaking as she breathed in.

Finally, after a long moment, he responded.

"Why didn't you just ask me to come with you." His whisper came out not as a question but as a harsh demand.

"Or… Fuck!" He suddenly yelled, sitting up and swinging his legs powerfully over the edge of the bed. She was startled off the bed and almost fell as she stumbled, trying to get out of his way. He pushed past her and stormed around the room, his hands waving and finally landing on his head, tugging at his hair.

Knowing what was about to come, Hermione wordlessly and wandlessly cast a silencing charm to encapsulate the room. He had probably already woken the entire house, and they would be eager to listen in to the fight. She wanted to at least save _some_ of her dignity.

"The _fucking night before,_ Hermione?! Are you serious? You couldn't have talked to me, I don't know, _a few weeks ago_ when you started feeling like leaving?"

And at that, Hermione's rage bubbled back up to the surface.

"A few _weeks_ Ron? It hasn't been weeks, it's been MONTHS. I've been dreaming of getting out of Britain since we set up that damn tent for the first time!" She yelled back at him.

"Oh, so you've just been lying to me for months have you? What, have you just pretended to be interested in me all this time? It's always been nothing but lies and manipulation with you, hasn't it?!"

"Ron, no!" She shouted. But he didn't stop his tirade long enough to hear her.

"You know what - fuck you Hermione! I bet you've been fucking Harry this whole time behind my back too, haven't you, you little bitch?!"

 _**Trigger Warning - Exit now if you wish to skip the semi non/con smut ahead**_

They had somehow ended up nose to nose and as the word _bitch_ rolled off Ron's tongue Hermione's hand rose up. Instinctively she moved to slap him with all the strength in her arm - hopefully to make him see sense. To make this pain stop that was bubbling up inside her the longer he talked.

But Ron was much to fast and much to strong for her to ever land a hit. With murder in his eyes he caught her wrist in his large hand and whipped her around, forcing her arm behind her back to an almost painful degree. She was bent over slightly, her ass pressed up against him. Her heart thudded and she vaguely registered that she was now looking out the window, the moon hanging low in the sky.

His breathing was just as ragged as hers and time seemed to stand in limbo for a moment before he cupped her ass cheek through her thin pajama pants. With one of his hands holding her arm behind her back, and the other on her ass, she had never felt quite so vulnerable before. A spike of fear welled up inside her even as she felt arousal start to dampen her panties. His hands on her, even in anger, stirred something twisted in her mind.

"You know what Hermione" Ron's voice was once more a dangerous whisper.

"If you think you can just fuck me over like this, then maybe I'll show you how it feels. To be thoroughly _fucked_."

And before she could even form any sort of response, his hand slipped slowly beneath the waste band of her pants. They ghosted over her thong and he let out a low chuckle.

"Oh Hermione, you little _slut._ Only naughty girls wear panties like this. You've just been asking for it, _haven't you_ ".

The light caress of his fingertips had her shuddering. Her breath caught in her throat and she gasped when he shoved her forward unexpectedly. He had released her from his hold and she just barely caught her hands on the window sill before her head banged against it.

Before she could even take a breath he was behind her again. Ron placed a hand on the middle of her upper back and pushed down, her hands digging into the window ledge as she tried to catch her balance. He grabbed her hip with his other hand and rubbed himself against her. She felt his hard cock graze against her pussy and before she could stop herself, she let out a low moan at the contact. He shoved his hand inside her pants again and moved his fingers to slip along the outside of her panties. He stroked her languidly for a few seconds and chuckled darkly as her wetness continued to seep out of her.

"Already wet, you little slut? Too bad. This isn't going to be nearly punishment enough then."

Another shot of fear streaked through her but was drowned out by the soft caress of his fingertips, which were slipping inside her panties to finally stroke the slick lips of her pussy.

Hermione whined in pleasure as he spread her arousal around her lips, coating her, teasing her. His hand slid up and wrapped around the back of her neck, squeezing just enough to throb. Just when she thought he was going to slide his fingers inside of her, he let go of her neck and yanked her pants and panties down to her knees in one swoop.

Hermione yelped and gripped the sill harder as she heard him step out of his boxers and all of a sudden she felt the head of his cock start to slip and slide against her pussy lips. She keened in pleasure as his fingertips dug into her hip bones. The pain leveled her out, kept her feet on the ground when her spirit felt like it was about to exit her body in pleasure.

What was this high? She had been fucked before and it had never left her floating outside of her body like this.

When he slammed inside of her, Hermione screamed. He wasted no time and immediately began pounding his hard cock into her pussy - hard even thrusts that felt so delicious Hermione began to see stars. Ron pushed down hard on her upper back and then yanked her head back, his hand fisted tightly in her hair. Suddenly - with her back pushed low and her hips up high, her head screaming in pain for the way he was yanking on her - he was hitting that secret place that no one ever seemed to be able to find. Unrelenting assault on her g-spot that shot pleasure down to her toes and had her mouth hanging open, her tongue hanging out and her eyes rolling up into her skull.

"Are you enjoying your punishment, whore?" Ron spit out the word _whore_ as if she were disgusting to him. He let go of her hip and used his hand in her hair as his sole way to anchor himself to her. Hermione's head arched back even further, restricting her breathing as her windpipe pressed tight against her skin. Ron swung his other hand back and whacked her hard on the ass and she shrieked. Again that bolt of pleasure shot through her. Again and again he hit her and she felt herself drift, feeling nothing but his cock pounding against her g-spot, the pleasure and the pain rolling through her in equal measure. Or was it all just pleasure rolled up in different ways?

She felt her juices sliding down her legs and pooling on the floor, her lips so swollen they ached. She thought vaguely that she had never been this aroused before - neither pleasuring herself or with another lover. Just as she felt herself about to come, Ron released her head and pulled out of her. She almost hit the ground again she as so caught off guard, but he yanked her up and threw her towards the bed.

"Get On your knees," He demanded.

Hermione scrambled onto the bed and got on her knees, sticking her ass up in the air towards him. She felt boneless and empty, dying to have him inside of her again. He yanked her body up and tore off her thin camisole, leaving her tits bare. He placed both his hands on her and slowly slid them down until he was leaning over her, his hands gripping the sides of her face and wrapping around her jaw. He shoved his fingers into her mouth to the back of her throat, almost making her gag. He pressed his cock up against her, slipping and sliding against her slick, wet pussy.

And then all of a sudden he was inside her again, deeper then before. She would have let out another scream but Ron put his hand on the back of her head and pressed her face into the mattress.

A feeling of terror rose up in her as she struggled to get a breath. She started flailing against him, trying to buck her head up but he just laughed and pushed down harder. Finally she slipped her foot free and twisted away from him rolling over and scurrying back across the bed.

She looked into his face for the first time since he had started fucking her and what she saw scared her even more than him pressing her face into the mattress. His eyes black, a sneer across his face with a ghost of betrayal.

"You think you're going to get away from me, Hermione?" He merely laughed again and yanked her feet towards him. He climbed onto the bed and held her feet in one hand as he slammed back inside of her. He pressed them down to her ears and all of a sudden she couldn't breath again. She was suffocating as waves of pleasure rolled over her. He grabbed onto a nipple and squeezed. Hermione's mouth fell open in a silent scream, her body spasming and her feet shaking in his hand. He kept pounding into her until finally her body went limp and she felt him jerk out of her. He grasped his cock in his hand and finished himself. She opened her eyes just in time to see his thick spurts of cum shooting towards her, covering her tits and landing in her mouth and hair.

They both breathed for just a moment, and Ron leaned back on his haunches. Hermione's fear had left her and she felt dazed from such a powerful orgasm. She thought that perhaps their argument was now over, and she could relax. Ron had gotten his anger out, certainly. She almost fell herself begin to drift off when she felt Ron shove her roughly out of the bed. She toppled off and yelped in pain as her hip hit the hardwood floor.

"Don't even think for a second I'd let you sleep in my bed with me, Hermione. Don't bother saying goodbye before you leave." He stood and grabbed her by the arm, hauling her over to the door and promptly shoved her into the hallway. She looked up at him in horror and he merely looked back at her with a lingering smirk. He shut the door with a firm click and twist of the lock.

Hermione stood in a daze staring at his closed bedroom door. Naked, shocked, and with cum literally dripping off her onto the hallway, she hobbled towards her door down the hall, praying that no one would see her. Once she had her door firmly locked she collapsed into bed and as an afterthought, cast a cleansing charm upon herself. Not the same as a hot bath, but it would do.

She lay awake long into the night, overwhelmed and overwrought by what had just happened. Not just by his aggression, but how much she had _liked it._ She had never cum so hard or so long before, and once she had calmed herself she realized that a part of herself was quite sated. Was she just weak to have allowed him to take such liberty with her? As anxiety and fear crept back into her heart, she physically shook herself and affirmed that no, she was not weak. She could easily have blasted Ronald Weasley onto his arse at any moment, had she really had the desire to. And she believed if he had been any more rough than he had, that she would have. He may have been bigger than her, but she was much more magically powerful. If anything, the most hurtful thing he had done all night was throw her naked out of his bedroom. With a startling moment of clarity before drifting off to sleep, Hermione felt peace in her decision to leave. It was time to say goodbye to this house, to the pallor it cast, and especially to Ron.

Early the next morning, Hermione rose before the rest of the household. She soaked under the shower to wash away the remnants of the night before, and healed the dark blooms that were spread across her body where Ron had gripped her. She left a note in the kitchen for the family as a final goodbye, and right before her portkey was set to depart, she cast a spell she had learned especially for Ron should such an occasion arise. She smirked as she heard his bloodcurdling scream in the seconds before she whirled away with a small _pop._

On the other side of his bedroom door, Ron was awoken by hundreds of spiders ascending upon his bed and a message hanging in the air in red ribbon.

 _"I'm letting you off easy this time Ronald Weasley. Watch yourself"._

A/N: Don't forget to press the button and review! I know this chapter contains inaccurate BDSM components - please take this as a WHAT NOT TO DO in a dominant / submissive encounter! Hermione will learn more about trust, safe words, sub-space and proper aftercare from two of our favorite Slytherins, coming up in future chapters.

 _What did you think of Ron's character and his encounter with Hermione?_

 _Did you enjoy Hermione getting even before she left?_

 _How did you feel about Hermione's reaction to Ron's aggression?_

 _What did you think of the smut?_


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